


some souls are bound together

by bymine



Category: Glee
Genre: F/M, also a bit of samxrachel and quinnxrachel and santanaxrachel if you look super close, also: rachel is in pain and everyone loves her, quinn santana and kurt are all minor characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-03
Updated: 2016-12-03
Packaged: 2018-09-06 05:41:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8737012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bymine/pseuds/bymine
Summary: "sometimes you are torn from his side too soon and only the stars bear witness to your gasping pain, your dizzying ruin" (some klaine/samchel/quinchel implied) (poetry from: sunrisesongs on tumblr)





	

**Author's Note:**

> poetry from the lovely amrita (http://sunrisesongs.tumblr.com/post/121601195477/perhaps-then-this-is-to-be-your-fate-in-every)

_Some souls are bound together,_  
so the poets say,  
but you and he are more than destined, more than merely bound—  
your love is not just written in the stars,  
it is woven into the fabric of the heavens, the essence of the cosmos.

  She feels a pang on her chest when she wakes up in the middle of the night, sweat dripping and heart racing. Grief is a weird thing, it never really goes away, it has its good days, days when she will look at his photos on her photo and smile. And she will feel good, not happy, just good, and she will think its getting less hard, not better, never better. This is before the bad days came, in days like these she will wake up with her breath caught in her throat and it will take half an hour until she can breath properly again, she will clench her hands on her sheets and shut her eyes so tight she will see little colorful dots dancing around her closed eyelids, she will cry herself to sleep, curled in a ball until the thought of forgetting the color of his eyes leaves her mind.

  She knows something about the five stages of grief from a blue pamphlet she got with Emma. She thinks she is in the first to the last stage all at the same time. She doesn’t know if this is possible.

                                   

* * *

 

 

  It’s Friday, and she was suppose to be doing something else, but lying next to Kurt and watching illegally downloaded movies in his computer is so normal, so safe she can’t bring herself to get up. He is talking, she is not really listening. And she doesn’t know but in a middle of a phase she catches his name. She turns her head so fast she thinks she’ll break her neck.

  
 “What?” She didn’t intend to sound bitter or angry. But she did.

   
 Kurt’s gaze doesn’t meet her eyes. “I said that would be fun to go out tomorrow, but if you don’t want to I can bring you something…”  


  Is not the first time hears his name in the middle of conversations she doesn’t want to have. She keeps hearing his voice in the silence of her empty room, her empty bed. But this the first time she realizes she hasn’t said his name out loud in a long time. It’s always him. Even in her mind. She wonders if it will feel different after all that time, as it rolls over her tongue, leaves her chest. So she excuses herself, heads over to the bathroom and looks at herself in the mirror repeating his name like a mantra and for a second she doesn’t see her reflexion, she sees him. She thinks she is losing her mind.

 

  She visits his grave the next week. She doesn’t have anything in her hands and it feels weird. She kneels to the ground and her fingers trace his last name, the name they will never share, she doesn’t realize she is crying until she sobs so hard she has to grasp the grass to keep balance. Her shoulders are shaking and the sobs keep her from breathing.

   
  Her insides hurt, knuckles white and head is spinning. She doesn’t remember her last decent meal.  


  She holds herself onto his grave one last time as she stands up.  


  She next time she comes she brings flowers. Lots of them. Daisies, roses and lilies. She kisses each one of them before putting them neatly next to his grave. She pretends she is kissing his lips one last time.  


  And she sits cross-legged on the floor, telling him her day. But it’s not him, is a marble headstone. And who the hell say this would make her feel better? Because instead of making the hole on her chest ache a bit less, talking to his headstone is just cutting her from inside out.  


  She couldn’t dare looking at her friends in the eye anymore, not when they are all saying sweet things in a soft voice resembling a whisper. No matter how soft their voices are they hit her like a slap and cut her like a knife. She was sheltered and hurt but she didn’t need pity. She needed normalcy and jokes and laughs and she just want to forget.  


  She doesn’t dare driving around New York and seeing the places they went, the places they didn’t but she was sure he would love.  


  She can’t bring herself to eat. Not when the person she loved the most is not eating or breathing or living.  


  She is back in Lima, staying in her old house for a while.  


  When she meets Sam for a coffee, she feels good, it is the first time in a month she goes out for a coffee with someone. And even thought it’s already 11 pm she agrees in meeting him on a small coffee shop. Near her house.  She doesn’t see Sam much and when she looks at his gentle smile she realizes she misses him.  He is being Sam, telling her jokes. And at first she just nods politely and anyone else would’ve just stopped, but he is not running out of jokes yet and he really wants to make her smile.

 

  It is his last and worse attempt and he is about to give up and really who even knew a joke could be so lame?  


  But she laughs.  


  It has been such a long time since the last time she laughs that when she does, it sounds foreign even to her own ears. And it sounds unfair; the laugher dies just as quick as it started.  


   She gets up, hugs Sam with just and arm, apologies. And when he asks where she is going she lies.  


  “I’m going home. It was nice seeing you. Let’s do it again.”  


  And when he points at the half eaten muffin in front at her she says she is not hungry (which is true), she will eat later (which is not).  


  She waves and murmurs a bye as she walks to her car.  


  She drives and whenever a love song starts playing she will change the station. She ends up listening to some discussion about aliens.

 

  She ends up in Carole’s doorstep and is raining and she doesn’t have the courage to knock on the door. She stays 20 minutes outside in the pouring rain, she is freezing and her clothes are wet and hanging on her frame. She starts crying, and finally knocks on the door. When Carole opens the door she is too tired to talk, to speak, to think, so she just hugs the woman in front of her.  


  She sleeps in Carole’s arms, wearing and old t-shirt of Finn’s and Carole’s shorts, her first decent night in forever, Burt picks up and her takes her to Finn’s room, laying her gently in his bed.

  Burt and Carole check on her every 30 minutes. They look at each and they understand. They don’t mention it when she wakes up, not even when they hand her dry clothes (she gives Carole back her shorts but keeps his shirt), not even when she is already gone.

  
  She thinks Kurt doesn’t know how sad she is. But he does. He sees it in her red and puffy eyes, he hears it in the shake of her voice when she say his name, in the way she clings to Finn’s old stuff like it is the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, he can see it but they are both not ready to talk about it. So when the nights are too dark and his memory is too painful they will lie down together on his dark room and they’ll cry. They’ll have to talk about Finn eventually. They both know. But they aren’t ready yet.

        

* * *

 

They are all together, on Finn’s house. It has been a very long time since they all have been together like this. And it feels nice. Nice but scary at the same time, Rachel thinks.

 

  It has been four months since the last time she was in his room. She can’t stop herself from thinking about that night when she showed up dipping wet and cold at Carole and Burt’s doorstep.  


  Her throat is sore and her voice is hoarse from crying and she is feeling the beginning of and headache. She feels pathetic.  


  “Hi” Santana says as she sits next to her on his bed. Their shoulders are touching and Rachel finds it strangely comforting. And Santana doesn’t even wait to hear Rachel’s reply when she begins ranting.  
  
“You know, you should visit your friends more, you know, I know you feel like you are so fucking strong and that you don’t need help and we are all pathetic fuckers but we care for you, and you may feel like you don’t need our help and I’m repeting myself, but you do. Stop being such a bitch and let us help you… I-I really missed you” And suddenly her words turn into sobs and she holds Rachel for dear life as they both cry together. And the hole on her chest doesn’t feel so empty.

 

                                              

 

  She doesn’t remember what it was, what she said exactly, maybe something about the fact that she didn’t ate properly ‘till the night before but suddenly all eyes are on here. She shifts, she is not new to attention, to people looking at her but right now she just wants them to stop. She tries to laugh it off. They don’t buy it but they see the pain in her eyes. So they talk about something else.

 

  The next morning, Blaine does her cereal and her coffee and carefully watches as she sips her drink, as she shallows. The following week Blaine makes her company at every breakfast. Kurt takes her out to lunch. Every day, it starts feeling like a routine.  


  On the weekend Santana shows up and brings pizza and chips and tacos and lasagna and where the hell she found a home cooked lasagna the world will never know.  


  Rachel pretend to not see Blaine making signs at Santana, one of them involves a middle finger.  


  “Let’s start it lightly, if she really didn’t ate in weeks lets not push a whole pizza down her throat” She heard Kurt whisper. Next week Santana shows up at their doorstep with a single pizza box on a hand and a precarious balanced bag in another. Rachel smiled as she grabbed the box and led the Latina girl inside.

 

                                             

* * *

 

 

  She is in the cemetery again. The skies are pale blue and the grass is wet. It has become an habit. She doesn’t even look up as she follows the way to his grave. Her hands are empty again and when she looks up there is a blond girl next to his grave.  


  Quinn.  


  The girl looks back and when they lock eyes she whispers a hushed apology as she tries to leave. Rachel touches her arms and holds her in place.  


  “Stay, please” Her voice is too broken for Quinn to say no.  


  They stay in the graveyard for half and hour in heavy silence, both of them staring at the ground. Avoiding each others gaze.  


  “I’m-I’m really sorry, you know” Says Quinn, chocking on her words.  


  “It’s not your fault, there is no one to blame.”  


  “No, not like this. You don’t understand, I’m sorry for what I did in the past. For everything. I was a bitch, but  I loved Finn, I really did. And if I could I would have done everything so different. I’m so so sorry” And she is crying now and her sobs are making it hard for Rachel to understand what she is saying so she hugs her, feeling her body shake.  


  Quinn whispers apologies in Rachel ears as she cries. And when her sobs die down a little she can hear Rachel whispering it back.

 

 

 

  The numbness in her heart doesn’t feel as oppressing anymore.  It feels like closure. She finally understand what getting better actually means.

 

                     

**Author's Note:**

> yo, so english is not my first language so if i got anything wrong please hit me up!!  
> also, i don't really care about glee anymore but i LOVED rachelxfinn and i hope this made sense lol.  
> another version of this was posted on ff.net but beware it's shitty af (https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11038121/1/some-souls-are-bound-together)


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